


Middles

by pukajen



Series: Travels [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 09:04:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pukajen/pseuds/pukajen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I was going to pack for you, but Jarvis said that at this stage of our relationship that it wouldn’t be appropriate.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Middles

**Author's Note:**

> Post IM2
> 
> Written for challenge 14 over on its_always_been over on lj. Instead of one story with three cities, I chose to write three stories, they'll be very loosely related, but are completely readable as standalones. For this story I used New York and Venice.
> 
> The amazing soundingsea gets all that thanks from me for the beta.

The door opens quickly enough to let Pepper know that Tony has been watching her progress up to the penthouse apartment via the security feeds. Either that, or he's finally had a tracking chip implanted while she slept, a threat he's made more than once in the last two weeks.

“If you've put a tracking device in me we are never having sex,” she says by way of greeting, eying him warily. 

“We're not having sex now, so I hardly see how your threat has any relevance.” 

“Ah, but I assume that at some point you actually want to see me naked,” she shoots back.

Tony leans in to kiss her. It's all tongue and enthusiasm, and a hand on her ass pulls her close. 

When they break apart, Pepper can feel some of the tension of the last forty-eight hours start to drift away. The smile he givers her is buoyant, bordering on manic, and she wonders just what mischief he's gotten himself into. 

After an affectionate pat on her ass, he heads to the bar where there's an open bottle of wine sitting next to two wine glasses. With deft ease, Tony pours each of them a glass of wine; the liquid is deep ruby red with a bluish undertone and she can tell from the label that it's not one from his collection.

He seems to be vibrating energy in a way she usually associates with a new idea, the acquiring of some hard-to-get part for one of his cars, or drugs. And he hasn't so much as looked at any narcotics – even the prescription painkiller kind that have been recommended on multiple occasions – since before he left for Afghanistan. 

That leave ideas or cars. But they're in New York, and while that doesn't preclude either of the two, he doesn't tend to do any major engineering here unless it's in one of the research facilities, and his cars are all in whatever is left of the garage in Malibu and he has no way of really knowing what he needs to start fixing them. 

“How was your day, dear?” Tony asks as he hands her a glass.

“Long, aggravating, and, ultimately, successful.” She takes a sip of wine and savors the taste; it's rich and spicy, with a hint of berries, and she wonders if Tony bought just the one bottle. She makes a mental note of the label – Amarone Classico della Valpolicella, 2000 – and then wonders if it's in her price range. 

Well, the price range she considers acceptable for everyday items. Taking another long sip, she bumps the wine up to the category of things that are acceptable as indulgence items. 

“You got the governor to cave, didn't you?” Tony asks as he slumps down onto the dove grey sofa opposite the bar.

“I wouldn't say cave so much as he came around to my way of thinking,” she says diplomatically, then takes another sip of her wine.

“Caved,” Tony all but crows. “You know, I find it very hot when you get men of power to do your bidding.”

“Really?” Pepper asks archly. “Then why do you so rarely do what I ask you?”

That seems to have Tony momentary stumped. Smiling, Pepper steps out of her shoes, for once just leaving them in the middle of the room, and saunters over to sit next to Tony on the couch. Ignoring the small voice that says curling her legs – bare because of her skirt – up next to her on the couch is not how she is supposed to sit with Tony, Pepper makes herself comfortable.

“So, how much is Stark Industries on the handle for?”

“Twelve percent of whatever insurance won't be covering.” She's particularly proud of that number as she knows the number that both the mayor and the governor wanted was closer to thirty. And the Feds didn't want any of the responsibility, but considering it was pretty much all their fault, Pepper has plans in place to make damned sure that they are going to pay for whatever SI was supposed to be paying. 

“Oh to have been a fly on that wall to watch you work your magic.”

“You could have been more than a fly if you'd been the one to actually do the negotiating for your company.”

“I thought we agreed that you were staying in charge, but I was going to take over the tech and acquisition side of things.”

Pepper lets out a sigh; Tony's exact role at Stark Industries is one of the many discussions they've had in the last couple of weeks. And while she's agreed to stay on as CEO, Tony is supposed to be stepping up to take a more hands-on role with developing, implementing, and distributing SI's still-burgeoning clean energy division. Not to mention taking a much more active role with the same responsibilities in all other appropriate departments in SI; both new and old. 

Basically, he was going to become the CTO, even if he winced every time she used that term.

To date, he'd set up and abandoned an office at SI and spent the rest of the time playing with SHIELD. To be fair, he'd been sorting through the wreckage of the Hammer drones and making sure that all tech matching his arc reactor was quietly and irrevocably destroyed beyond recognition while he was cataloging and reverse engineering them. 

Pepper isn't sure if SHIELD knows what Tony has done, but she has to put her faith in the fact that if he managed to hide the fact that he build a huge iron suit out of spare parts in a cave, then he can figure out how to discretely get rid of any tech he doesn't feel the rest of the world is ready for. 

Still, he's needed at SI; she can't do all of this on her own. And even if she could, she sure as hell doesn't want to.

“Tony, I know you've been working with SHIELD, but at some point you're going to need to transition into the CTO—”

“You promised you weren't going to use that word.”

“Technically it isn't a word so much as three letters taken from three separate words.” Swirling her glass, Pepper watches the ruby wine make a small vortex as she contemplates exactly how to deal with Tony.

Her staying on as CEO was contingent on him taking up the role of CTO and filling spots on the board left vacant since an incredibly thorough in-house audit ferreted out any and all of Obadiah Stane's cohorts, spies, and lackeys. So far, Tony has pretty much ignored her various attempts to make him look at candidates for various positions. Instead, he usually manages to talk her into eating a magnificently prepared meal and after, if she doesn't tumble directly into bed, alone, then they usually end up watching something mindless on the huge television in the den. Nothing with too many explosions or having to save the world – the experience of that is too close for both of them. 'Top Gear' is a favorite for both of them, as are several of the cooking shows – though Tony mostly mocked the amazingly complicated dishes that seem to be prepared in a matter of minutes.

“As of today, I'm done with SHIELD,” he informs her casually. Startled, Pepper tears her gaze away from her glass and looks at him dead on. Tony, of course, has his eyes focused on his own wine. “I gave them my report; they asked me not to work with them.” Lifting his glass, Tony finished his wine. “Well, I guess it was more of a 'don't call us, we'll call you' type of thing.”

“They don't want you on their team?” Pepper asks, more shocked than she can hide.

“Turns out I'm 'prone to self-destructive behavior and tendencies'. I tried to tell them that was so last week, but Fury didn't care. The report mentioned that I'm self-obsessed and there might have been something about being a textbook 'narcissist'.” Tony gives her an affronted look and Pepper does her best to school her features, but not well enough if the narrowing of Tony's eyes is any indication. “By the way, don't those last two basically mean the same thing? There was some other stuff that I ignored. But basically it means I'm not invited to play with the other kids.”

Stunned, Pepper just stares at him, unable to come up with words to express the mixture of anger on his behalf and overwhelming relief that he won't be putting himself in even more danger than he already does. Taking a sip of wine to settle her nerves, Pepper realizes that her glass is nearly empty and wonders if it's worth the effort to stand back up to get more. It is supremely good wine, but she's comfortable, and she thinks that this is going to be another important discussion for them.

“Are you going to do something about that?”

“No. Let's face it, I'm not really a joiner.” He stands, his eyes flitting to hers, then away, and goes to get the bottle of wine. “Plus, the thought of Fury constantly breathing down my neck and Natashalie creeping around spying on us isn't something I want to deal with.” 

Pepper still hasn't even begun to sort through her feelings on Natasha and the various roles the woman had played the last month or so and feels the less said about her at the moment the better.

“Well, if you're done with SHIELD, I have dossiers on the short-list of candidates for the role of CFO, VP of marketing, and at least three upper level managers for medical imaging, biogenetics, and your personal assistant.” Pepper holds out her glass for Tony to fill. “Actually, I've decided that only having one person at your beck and call is unrealistic at best, so I've split my former roles over three new positions.”

“I think I should test out all new positions with you,” Tony leers.

Pepper just rolls her eyes. “If we could go over the files after dinner, we'll have the weekend more or less to ourselves.” It was the first time off she'll have since taking over the role of CEO of Stark Industries and she is looking forward to doing nothing more than she can express with words. 

“Yeah, about that,” Tony starts and Pepper feels her heart drop and her muscles tense. “I was thinking maybe we could have some Italian for dinner.”

Relief washes over her and a smiles turns up her lips; there are several very good restaurants nearby, all of which will deliver within half an hour for the right price. Mentally, Pepper starts to scroll through her favorites; tonight feels more like a baked sugo all'arrabbatia, though there's something to be said for a good pasta alla carbonara.

Tiramisu for dessert. Hopefully, she'll be able to talk Tony into ordering torta di Ricotta. 

“Sounds good to me,” she tells him, her mouth already watering at the thought of the spicy, cheesy pasta she plans on ordering. 

Casually, Tony sets his wine glass aside and checks his watch. 

“We should head out,” he tells her, not meeting her eyes.

“Did you make reservations?” Pepper asks suspiciously.

“Yeah, and we need to go or we'll be late.” He smiles beguilingly at her and Pepper's disquiet raises to full out anxiety, bordering on panic. 

“Where exactly are we going?”

“To this place I know in Venice,” he tells her. His bland tone does nothing to mask his excitement.

“Venice Beach?” Pepper inquires hopefully. “Because if we're flying back to LA maybe—” 

“You ask too many questions,” he cuts her off. “Just grab your purse and let's head out.”

Years of working for Tony has given Pepper a pretty good level of distrust when he smiles at her and tries to rush her through things.

“Do you plan for us to eat in Venice, Italy?” From his quick frown, Pepper knows she's guessed correctly. “Tony, we can't--”

“Yes, we can,” he says, cutting her off again. “You're the CEO and I own the company. I checked with all your assistants to make sure that you can be gone for the weekend, Monday, and Tuesday.”

“But I have—”

“No, you don't.” He walks over to her, crouching down in front of her. Eyes pleading; warm and soft and so filled with need and fun that Pepper feels herself starting to cave even before he really starts his argument. 'You haven't really had any time off in two years. And before you say anything, that week you were worked half days because you had the flu doesn't count.”

“We're at a critical point—”

“Of nothing; you got the city and state to agree to exactly what we want, and all of the bids we put in for the reconstruction have either been accepted or rejected.” He takes her hands in his, his thumbs slowly circling over her palms igniting a slow burn of desire in her belly. “And, I promise that I'll go over that list of candidates in excruciating detail on the flight.”

Pepper vacillates between shutting down him in a knee-jerk reaction after so many years of having to dissuade his more outrageous ideas and wanting to give in to the promise in his eyes, the smile on his lips, the gentle yet rousing way his thumbs smooth over her skin. 

“We come back to New York on Tuesday?” Pepper asks, but she knows that even if says no, she's already giving in. It'll just delay the inevitable. The tug to just get away, to get away with him, is a living thing in her gut.

“You'll be at work on Wednesday,” he promises. “Come on, Pepper. We could be having lunch in Venice tomorrow.”

“What about dinner tonight?” She hasn't said she's going, but she is and they both know it.

“Called Gino and he got Michele to make us some dinner. It should be waiting on the plane.”

Only Tony would casually call up one of the owner of the top Italian restaurant owners in Manhattan and ask him to get their executive chef to make what essentially amounts to takeout. 

“And he said yes?” Pepper asks facetiously. Because, of course he did. As far as she can tell, she's the only one who has ever consistently ever said no to Tony and even then she was only successful about a third of the time. 

“It'll be ready for us as soon as we reach cruising altitude.”

“Chef Mazza on the plane?” Pepper demands incredulously. 

“He wanted to see his family,” Tony says, pulling her to her feet.

“Tony, the distance between Venice, and Sorrento, well Marco Polo airport and Naples, isn't exactly a small one,” she points out as she lets herself be tugged to her bedroom.

“I know, which is why at some point I owe him a flight there.” In her room, Tony drops her hand and gestures to her black roller bag which is sitting open and empty on her bed. “I was going to pack for you, but Jarvis said that at this stage of our relationship that it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Jarvis was right, but thank you for thinking of it,” she tells him. Leaning in, she drops a quick kiss on the side of his mouth, grinning a bit at the prickle of his goatee. So far, one of the best benefits of this new aspect of their relationship is how well Tony responds to encouragement in the form of tactile rewards. Not that it's a great hardship for her to kiss him, run her fingers through his ridiculously soft hair, stroke her hand down his bare forearm. 

“I checked the weather and it looks sunny and warm,” Tony informs her as he bounces on the balls of his feet. His eyes track her as she makes her way over to the dresser and starts to rummage through the top drawer. She's about to pull out several pairs of underwear – there might even be an incredibly skimpy, lacy set of jade green bra and panties – when she realizes that he's staring.

Pepper stares at him pointedly, but this is Tony, and personal boundaries – when used in conjunction with other people – mean nearly nothing to him. 

“Are you going to watch me pack?” she asks wryly.

“Was thinking about it.” He tells her grinning. “What lives in your top drawer?”

“Something you would very much like to see, but never will if you don't leave in the next five seconds,” Pepper informs him smartly. 

“You have a cruel, cruel streak in you, Miss Potts.”

“Yes, and it turns you on,” she answers tartly.

With a sigh and a look of pure desire, Tony turns on his heels and leaves. Smiling, Pepper continues sorting through what she will bring on the quick trip. 

Luckily she has her passport. That one time she needed to go to Cabo to get Tony cured her of ever traveling anywhere – even to and from the office – without her passport in her purse. 

# # #

The flight is smooth and the food excellent. Tony even sits down for four solid hours as they hash out and decide on all but one of the positions that need to be filled the most urgently. Pepper knew that finding a personal assistant that would meet public and at-home needs would be the hardest and Tony didn't even get past reading the dossiers on the candidates before rejecting them.

At least he read them, which Pepper considers an amazing victory. 

Having dozed on the plane, Pepper wants to make the most of her time outside of New York and away from the mayhem that continues to dog her life since becoming CEO of Stark Industries. Really, since she started to work for Tony Stark, but at least when she was his personal assistant, she only had him – and angry board members, irritated members of government sub-committees, irate vendors used for both his personal and corporate resources, heartbroken or drunk or high or angry or indifferent or bubbly or bitchy or knowing women – to deal with. This mess was again the result of something Tony had done, but not something he had caused. 

The difference is subtle, but distinct in her mind.

“Do you want to take a nap?” Tony asks after they step off the private shuttle to the docks with the black and white striped pillars at Cipriani Hotel. Roberto, an older, rotund, balding man, greets them by name with a big smile and promises their luggage will be taken care of.

While she has mixed feelings about the location, Pepper can't help but smile softly at the knowledge that Tony planned this out himself. She has no doubt that he harassed any number of people into getting all the details worked out, but as far as she knows, Tony has never, ever gone to this kind of effort for anyone. 

“I think if I sleep now, I might not want to get up until it's time to go back to New York,” Pepper tells him. “Let's just freshen up and go grab—” she checks her watch, though she's fairly certain of the local time, “some lunch.”

They don't go to check-in; instead an impeccably groomed man in a smart grey suit who re-introduces himself as Giampaolo, the hotel's general manager, welcomes them in an alcove of the lobby. They've only been here twice before, but Pepper smiles and returns his greeting in the way she's done with hundreds of others who have helped her deal with Tony and all the craziness that surrounds his life.

“We have the two suites booked for you, Mr. Stark,” he tells them. 

Pepper feels a warring sense of relief and disappointment course through her and calls herself five kinds of foolish for having either. 

“Thank you,” Tony says graciously, but he casts a furtive look in Pepper's direction as he speaks. “We're just going to change and go out and grab something to eat.”

“For your convenience, we have a powerboat with driver available at your disposal for the length of your stay,” Giampaolo offers as he directs them to the elevator. Not once does he even hint at the unusual fact that it was Tony and not Pepper whom he dealt with. 

“Great,” Tony says. 

“Miss Potts,” Giampaolo, “your room is first.” He unlocks the door then hands her a key. “I hope your stay with us will be restful. If you need anything at all do not hesitate to call me or any of the other staff.”

It's on the tip of her tongue to say that he can just use her room – why have the added expense of both rooms when in all likelihood, they'll just end up using one – but something stops her and she's not sure what it is.

Instead, she thanks him, gives Tony a long assessing look which he returns with one of his own, then goes into the suite. 

As she strips off the clothes she spent the night in, Pepper ponders why she's held Tony off for as long as she has. The excuses – and she sees them for what they are: poor reasons to continue to keep a carefully constructed wall between them – are starting to border on ridiculous. They are lovers in all but deed and she's not sure why she keeps taking that huge step back – both mental and physical – whenever they come close to crossing the line.

Oblivious to the sumptuous pink marble of the bathroom and the exquisite shower, Pepper mechanically washes her hair as she tries to figure out what is holding her back. 

That she loves Tony isn't a question. That she's been in love with him for far longer than she's comfortable admitting isn't really the issue either. Nor is his past; that is to say, that Pepper has no fear that he would ever stray. When Tony gives his loyalty, he gives it absolutely and fiercely. She's had it on many levels for years, but since his return from Afghanistan, maybe even before that, he's started to drag her more deeply into his personal spaces. 

It comes to her as she's combing out her hair; she's worried she won't measure up. The idea is as horrifying as it is irritating; that he would compare her to a woman past and find her lacking.

There is no question here of who has the most experience; Pepper is under no illusions, and Tony was a slut for years. Still, of the two, she's the one who has any experience maintaining long-term relationships; even if it's only two, the longest of which was just over fourteen months. 

Pulling on a flowing, knee-length pale blue skirt with silver vines subtly embroidered growing up from the hem, Pepper stops and inspects herself in the full mirror of the bathroom. She is attractive, of that she has no doubt; she's in relatively good shape – could probably stand to tone some muscles that are not as shapely as they could be, but working sixteen hour days doesn't leave much time for anything else – her skin is pale, dotted with freckles that people think she hates, but she actually loves, her hair – newly washed and blow-dried – is shiny and healthy. Still, she's not one of the women – many of whom benefited from more than what mother nature had bestowed upon them – who have infinitely more time than she does to make sure their bodies are perfect. 

Also, and perhaps this is what really worries her, Tony is stone-cold sober whenever he makes an advance these days. It's not that he has to be wasted to pick up women, but never before has she ever seen him so studiously, though without pushing, gone after anyone before and Pepper worries that maybe if they cross that final line, if the mystery is gone, he might not want her anymore.

Doing up the hooks on a pale blue bra with silver thread – it nearly matches the silver in her skirt – Pepper pushes aside the thought that she packed this set of underwear with Tony in mind. Okay, all the underwear she brought was with the thought, the knowledge, that he'd be seeing them.

Not that he won't love her – she's almost positive he's in love with her, and that scares her the more she thinks about it, so she goes back to her earlier thought – but that he will lose interest in her physically; who would keep to one choice on the menu – no matter how fabulous – when they've been used to every variety the most exclusive chefs of the world could offer?

A faint knock on her door startles her, and Pepper curses softly. Somehow time has gotten away from her.

“One minute,” she calls with little hope of Tony hearing her through the thick old doors and walls that separate them. 

Quickly pulling on a green t-shirt that matches her skirt in tone, Pepper pads barefoot to the door.

When she opens it, Tony's eyes rake over her body and seemed to catch at her bare feet for a second, before making the return trek to her face. 

“Have I fallen into an alternate reality where this Pepper Potts isn't ready on time?” Tony asks, though his sardonic tone can't mask the flare of desire in his eyes. 

“Shut up,” she tells him with a small smile she can't suppress when she catches his right hand coming out to touch her in some way, but checking as if not sure exactly what to do. “I just need to tie back my hair, put my shoes on.”

“Leave it down.” Tony seems just as startled as she is by the request. “Please, leave it down,” he adds, not managing to become any more suave.

It's his obvious uncertainty that finally settles Pepper. 

With a little nod, she crosses to the bedroom to retrieve her shoes. They were bought in Milan on a previous trip to Italy; they are a lovely supple pewter-grey leather and fit perfectly, even if they are flats. Doing up the small buckles on the outside of her left ankle, Pepper mollifies herself over the lack of heels – a concession to the uneven and often cobblestoned streets of Venice – with the thought that there will be no shortage of shops where she can get more appropriate shoes depending on the demands of circumstances. The Italians know shoes and clothing better than most. 

“Pepper?” Tony all but whines from the other room. “I need coffee and will not hold myself responsible if I don't get any. Soon.”

# # #

They don't have any specific plans in mind when they head across San Marco Square, except that they don't really want to eat in the tourist-populated area. Their driver, Bettina, recommends several places, but she and Tony forget them as soon as they step off the boat.

Tony jumped off first and offered his hand; he has yet to let go of it.

They wander around – both slightly buzzed on the incredibly strong espresso they stopped for at the first little cafe they found down one of the small streets leading away from San Marco's – admiring the handmade masks, the dizzying array of colored glass, and plethora of tourists. Here, among the predominantly dark haired, dark eyed, and olive-skinned people, it is her pale, freckled skin and red hair that stand out, but thankfully, no one recognizes them. 

Or, if they do, they keep away. 

Though it initially made her uneasy to be out without any sort of protection, Pepper now relishes the lack of the usual shadow presences. They stop in one of the dozens of bakeries interspersed among the tourist shops and inely crafted leather goods and gobble down freshly-made pastries: focaccia veneziana for Tony, and a couple of skinny puffed-pastry sticks lightly frosted with mocha for herself. They also split a large ring-shaped cookie called a bussolai, that might have looked starkly plain, but was fantastic shortbread with a light lemon flavor.

“You want the rest?” Pepper asks, handing him the last bit of her half of the bussolai, stomach filled with more sugar and butter than she usually eats in a week. Not that she regrets a bite. 

“Thanks,” Tony leans over and nips the last bit out of her hand. Laughter bubbles out from her throat unbidden as happiness fills her. Pepper caresses his cheek as he chews, grinning like mad at her.

Dressed in faded blue jeans and a crisp white button down shirt that costs more than what most people make in three months, Tony blends right in. Even his sunglasses – custom-made, black framed Dolce and Gabbana – are innocuous in the crowd. 

Still hand in hand, though now with fingers interlaced – he's only let go of her hand long enough to gulp down his espresso, then to eat his focaccia veneziana – they wander into a small corner shop, where a man wearing glasses, lenses as thick as old Coke bottles, is expertly making one of the typical masks worn during Carnevale. This one is far from the elaborate feather and sequin covered tourist-specials that curtain many of the shops they passed around San Marco's Square. 

As the man studiously works, she and Tony browse the cramped but fascinating shop. There's a steadily growing pile of notebooks in her arms. Some are leather bound, with beautiful and unique designs scrolled into the covers. Others have paper covers in nearly every shade of the rainbow; some solid, others in graduated shades, still others a magic jumble of dozens of colors, all simple upon first glance and wonderfully complicated upon a deeper inspection. All are unique works of art on their own. There are books no bigger than a typical pink eraser; many fit in the palm of her hand, or would slip easily into a handbags; still others would make a good doorstop. 

Once she's done with the books, she inspects all the masks. A deep purple one calls to her; it's simple and beautiful with only a three inch flare, like a flick of fire over the left eye, that fades to the palest of mauves. 

Tony spends a long time chatting in Italian to the taciturn man, whose glasses now rest on the top of his head. A respectable stack of books – which she's pretty sure he'll never use – sit on a small work table. 

“Tony?” Pepper calls, holding the mask up to her face, grinning at him.

“Yes,” he all but growls. “Get it.” He prowls over to her; a frisson of desire snakes up her spine. 

When all is said and done, they've spent nearly a thousand euro.

“If you would like, I can deliver these to the Cipriani,” the artist says in heavily accented English, handing Tony back his credit card.

It's only then that Pepper realizes that he's known who they are – or at least, who Tony is – the whole time.

With a grin of thanks, and an offered and rejected hundred euro bill as a tip, they're on their way again. The sun shines brightly and even the scattering of clouds that have been breaking up all afternoon are finally gone. 

The shop is just feet from the opera house, and by the activity there's some sort of performance scheduled for that evening, so they quietly and quickly make their way away from where workers are laying out a red carpet. It's a bit hard to tell which of the people with expensive SLR cameras are tourists or waiting paparazzi. 

They cross the Rialto Bridge and wander through the empty stalls of the fish market and down the ever skinnier streets and away from the crowds of tourists. Here, the people of Venice live; apartments and laundromats, corner markets and specialty stores quietly bustle with normal daily activities. 

Eventually, actual hunger makes them stop at a small bar with typical Venetian snacks. The seating outside is informal and several people are standing by the side of the canal smoking and laughing. 

Tony goes in to order, while she waits by the door, eyes ever vigilant for anyone who looks like they're leaving. She would prefer to sit outside, but will happily take any seat at this point; they've been walking for hours and she's had so very little sleep. However, Tony returns with orange colored drinks, both with a slice of orange and an olive, before she can get them seats. 

“Local specialty,” Tony tells her, handing her a glass.

“What's in it?” Pepper asks, inspecting her glass.

“This and than.” He takes a sip of his own drink, a small smile of pleasure quirking his lips. “No luck finding us a seat?” he asks, scanning inside the packed bar. 

“No, but I think those people are getting ready to leave.” Pepper nods towards a group of five who seem to be gathering their stuff. With the ease of years of making their way through crowds, Pepper follows Tony as soon as the group stands. 

They take the seats with their backs to the bar looking out over the canal. Pepper takes a sip of her spritz; it's tart and dry and perfect on her parched throat. Within moments of them sitting down, a waiter comes and clears away the forest of empty glasses filled with melting ice and watered down liquids in various shades of orange and red. 

“Do you want food?” he asks in heavily accented English.

“Yes,” Tony answers back in Italian. Looking relieved, the man rattles off the daily fish specials – of which Pepper only understands they are actually fish – or offers to get them a menu. Tony asks for a menu and, without a clink of glass, the man gathers the tray and goes back inside. 

Their drinks are half gone by the time he returns and Pepper is starting to feel the extra relaxation brought on by strong alcohol and little food. With an ease she would never feel in their normal environment, Pepper leans into Tony and sighs in appreciation as he drapes his arm over her shoulders. 

The waiter returns with new drinks and a small bowl of potato chips that look freshly-made rather than out of a bag. He says something to Tony that goes completely over Pepper's head, but she just doesn't care; at the moment with the sun setting, leaning against Tony's solid warmth, she is more content than she's been in ages. 

Both men laugh and the rumble of sound from Tony trembles through her, livening the thrum of desire that's been on low since they've left the hotel. She wonders what will happen when they get back to the hotel. Wonders if they'll go their separate ways, if they'll go to his suite, or hers – hers is the nicer of the two and the fact that Tony gave up the better room is a concept Pepper still has trouble grasping – if tonight is going to be the night she lets go of her reservations – though, honestly, most of them have fled since before they left her room – and if she's going to let him take her to bed. Maybe it'll be her taking him to bed, as Tony seems to be willing to push only so far and no more. 

Or, better yet, maybe she'll just slowly drive both of them crazy until the only options are going back to the hotel or risking a public indecency charge.

There's something seductive about causing Tony Stark to lose all control. 

“What are you in the mood for?” Tony asks. 

Not bothering to hide the tenor of her thoughts, Pepper lifts her head and looks at him, a slow, knowing smile tilting up the corners of her mouth.

“Fuck, Pepper,” Tony mutters and she doesn't know if it's an expletive or what he wants.

“Later,” she promises, before she even knows what she's going to say, and watches his eyes narrow and his nostrils flare. The hand which had been draped over her arm briefly bites into her bicep.

“Not fair,” he finally gets out. 

“No,” she agrees, leaning up to nip him under the jaw. A low groan emanates from somewhere deep inside his chest. 

Quickly moving his head, Tony catches her lips with his in a hard, rough kiss that conveys want and need and maddening desire. When they break apart, they're both panting a bit, and Pepper is sure that her eyes are as glassy as his. 

Any worry she had about him comparing her to anyone else burns to ashes with the way his body trembles and his look promises all manner of dark and pleasurable things. The barely-leashed desire on his face has wetness gathering between her legs and Pepper lets the lust she usually ruthlessly suppresses in his presence thrum to the surface. 

Tony very rarely shows restraint and she's never seen him like this before: controlled and filled with desire directed solely at her, both gentle and rough. It makes her want to abandon the rest of the late afternoon and head instantly back to the hotel. 

Before she can act, Tony reins himself in, and slides the menu towards her so that they can both read it. Her ability to read Italian is significantly better than her ability to speak and understand it . They order a variety of food: grilled vegetables, crostini - small squares of toasted bread with all manner of different of different toppings, a small bowl of creamed cod, calamari, and prosciutto with melon. 

As they eat they chat and watch the boats go by. After all these years, they still have so much to say to each other; areas that have been skirted away from before are now left open to exploration. Another round of drinks make an appearance while they push aside plates scattered with the remnants of their meal – breakfast? lunch? – and they continue to chat. Her left hand rests just above his right knee and she is aware of every flex of his muscles whenever he shifts, of the small ripples of tension when she moves her fingers. 

When the time comes to pay, Pepper gives him a look and pulls out her wallet. Though he doesn't look thrilled, Tony doesn't argue.

Hand in hand they wander back towards the Rialto Bridge. Pepper stops in a shop with the most amazing selection of shoes.

“Well, this is predictable,” Tony jokes as they cross the threshold from street to store.

Pepper shoots him a look and goes right to a pair of gorgeous dove grey, close-toed heels that will go perfectly with her several of her suits. A clerk greets her with a smile and a soft 'ciao'. 

“Can I see those?” Pepper asks in English, hoping he understands, and nods to the shoes she admired in the window.

“Of course, “ he answers her. “What size?”

There are a pair of simple lavender ballerina-style flats – not at all her normal style, but she wants them too. When she tries them on, Pepper debates whether she'll wear them that often and whether their expense is worth it.

In the end, she adds them to her pile; Tony paid her ridiculously well when she worked for him and she has a very nice, very well-invested nest egg. 

While Tony amuses himself with a piece of SmartGlass – Pepper is more than a little shocked to realize that it didn't make an appearance sooner – she tries on a pair of knee-high brown leather boots that catch her eye. The leather is smooth and supple in a way that only handcrafted goods can be. They seem to hug her calves as she walks and Pepper all but moans in pleasure. 

Across the shop, a pair of black strappy heels call to her. The clerk, barely able to contain the pleasure of the impending sale, rushes to get them for her. Taking off the boots and caressing the leather, Pepper takes a moment to indulge in looking at Tony as he lounges against the open door. He is lean and muscled, but not in an obvious way. The bruises have faded to be almost nearly imperceptible and his skin has a healthy glow which she realizes was lacking in the month or two leading up to the fight at the Expo.

Letting her eyes roam over him, Pepper still can't quite grasp that he's hers now. That when they get back to the hotel there will be no more prevaricating, that she will finally put years of wondering in the past and indulge in something she'd promised herself she'd never do.

But the man she promised herself she'd never sleep with is no more, and she's finally ready to trust in that. In them. 

The clerk returns with her size and she puts on the shoes – the straps wrap halfway up her calves in a cross-crossing lattice – interrupting her introspection. 

Glancing up, Pepper notices that Tony is watching her intently, his body completely still and focused on her, eyes hungry, mouth set in a determined line – whether it's to do something that could get them in trouble, or holding himself back, Pepper is unsure. If it weren't for the very real possibility of spraining an ankle – or worse – she would wear these shoes out of the store. As it is, she doesn't think she'll ever be able to wear them in public if the way Tony is looking at her is any indication. 

Tony drags his eyes up her legs, over her torso, pausing briefly at her breasts, then up to her face. Desire flares hot and sharp when their eyes meet and Pepper wonders if there's a hotel nearby because the way she's feeling right now is almost too much to be shoved aside yet again. 

Still, a decade of trying to keep Tony from making a spectacle of himself in the public eye overrides her baser wants. But just barely. 

“Do you know where Bettina is?” Pepper asks, trying to break the tension a bit. Even if they could figure out where to meet her, they are at least half an hour away from the hotel. And as fun as it was to tease him while sitting in a bar mostly filled with locals and at the end of a little-used street, she doesn't want the pleasurable buzz of anticipation to flip over into aching frustration or be destroyed by a flash from some paparazzi. 

“No, but she's at our beck and call, so I can call her and she'll show up.”

“Do you know where we are?”

“Well, there's the big bridge up ahead that's pretty noticeable, but you might have missed it in your need for more footwear,” he snarks.

Narrowing her eyes at him, Pepper pays – the shoes are nearly twice what they spent on books and masks, but she doesn't even flinch – and thanks the quietly exstatic clerk for her purchases.

“You know, I don't think I ever want to hear you mock my spending habits again,” Tony tells her, grabbing the bigger bag from her hand as they make their way over the Rialto Bridge.

“There's a vast difference between investing in several pairs of serviceable footwear and spending millions of dollars on cars or hundreds of thousands of dollars on a tyrannosaurus skeleton that sits in boxes in storage.”

“Don't try that argument with me; spending on indulgences is all relative to one's tax bracket,” Tony says in a snootily condescending tone that has her snorting out a laugh.

“You keep telling yourself that.” She grins down at him, as he's a step behind her on the bridge. The height difference puts her nearly at ten inches taller and she bends down to drop a swift kiss on his lips. It's nothing too heated considering the crowds with cameras; she doesn't want to attract any unnecessary attention. 

Instead of figuring out how to meet up with Bettina, they continue to wander down the increasingly crowded streets, enjoying the rare and precious anonymity. They stop at another shoe store, but Pepper reluctantly leaves empty-handed. 

Tony buys her a small, stunning glass paperweight that seems to contain a whole galaxy inside. As the green copper roof of the iconic brick bell tower in San Marco's Square comes into view, sounds of live music – mostly popular American and British songs – drift to them over the din of a hundred different conversations in a dozen different languages. 

Wrapping his arm around her waist, Tony guides them around a group of laughing college-aged kids as they slowly make their way towards the Doge's Palace with the docks to the right. Indulging herself, Pepper slides her arm under Tony's and slips her hand into the back left pocket of his soft jeans. It's been years since she's spent a day like this, away from work, not thinking about work, not wondering what Tony was doing, when he was going to call her, why he wasn't calling her, what kind of trouble he was getting into. 

There was always a low level of tension on her days off that she attributed for waiting for the other shoe to drop – and maybe in the first couple of years that's all it was – but looking back, she now realizes that Tony's larger than life presence was what was missing when she was on her days off or rare vacations. It might have been codependent – actually, it most definitely was – and more than a little unhealthy, but Pepper can't imagine her life without him in it.

No, wait, she could, perfectly, and doesn't ever want to feel like that again.

“What's wrong?” Tony asks, slowing his steps as the small street they're on dumps them into the melee that is San Marco's Square.

“Nothing,” she murmurs, not wanting to tarnish the lovely glow of the day. She leans into him, curling her fingers a bit in his pocket. “Just a stray thought that doesn't belong here.”

He searches her face closely, but seems to take her words at face value. Still, he squeezes her a bit closer and drops a kiss on her temple before they continue on their way to the meeting place.

When they get to the gangway between the white granite columns – one topped with the winged lion of Saint Mark, the other with Saint Theodore holding a spear in his hand with the body of a crocodile at his feet said to represent the dragon he slayed – Pepper instantly spots Bettina waiting for them leaning against one of the red and white striped pillars that hold the dock in place.

“I wonder if she's been here all day,” Pepper comments as they make their way to the moored boat. “We should have let her know we were coming.”

“I texted her while you were ogling shoes in the last place to let her know we were close. She came right over.”

Stunned, Pepper stops to look at Tony. “Who are you, and what exactly have you done with the real Tony Stark?”

“Hey, I can plan things,” Tony defends himself.

“Planning how you're going to make ten parties spread across the country in one night doesn't count,” Pepper informs him tartly.

“Sure it does. That took a lot of effort.”

“Yes,” Pepper agrees. “For me and the rest of the team that hustled you from two parties in Manhattan and then to the one in Queens then to Boston, New Orleans, Austin, and finally LA.” Letting her hand drop from his waist, Pepper pulls away and threads her fingers through his so that they can make their way more easily along the wooden platforms and over to where the boat is moored. “LA, which was a nightmare of logistics that involved getting you, pretty inebriated at this point but still insisting on making your party quota, to parties in Hollywood, Long Beach, Bel Air, and finally Malibu.”

“But it took my initiative to get the ball rolling.” He nips her lower lip, then jumps down into the boat. Before she can follow, Tony wraps his hands around her hips and the world falls away as he lifts her down. 

Grasping his shoulders to steady herself, Pepper laughs at the ridiculous, random, amazing parts of what her life had been, what it was, what it could be.

Laughter still on her lips, Tony's mouth covers hers. He tastes of a echo of the spritzes they drank, and the fresh air, and the life that sings from him to her at every touch. Sliding her hand from his shoulders, to his hair, she opens her mouth and invites his tongue to tangle with hers.

How long she could have stood there, in wrapped his arms, his mouth on her, Pepper can only guess at, but all too soon the sound of a throat clearing breaks into the warm bubble of desire that has enclosed her with Tony.

“Sorry,” Bettina interrupts, “but I think that someone has realized who you are and we should probably be underway before they can spread the word.”

Luckily, the gobsmacked trio of teens are too stunned to do anything but poke each other and chatter furious as Bettina expertly gets the boat swiftly underway and out of the immediate area. Without photographic confirmation, Pepper knows from experience that it'll be hours before anyone starts to figure out they're actually here.

Pepper doesn't hold out hope that everyone they ran into will keep quiet about the encounter, but so far they've been well off the media's radar. Tomorrow will be a different story, but today, today is a day out of time. As she settled at Tony's side – she's already accustomed to sliding into place and worries slightly at how effortlessly she's found 'her' place against him – Pepper is thankful for the reprieve that they've had today, for the chance to get to know each other as most couples do without the intense scrutiny of the world taking note.

Her thoughts stutter to a stop when Tony starts making small circles on her bare right knee with the index finger of his right hand. The slight breeze as the boat maneuvers through the crowded waterways to their hotel has blown the hem of her skirt up and Pepper realizes that she's currently exposing more skin than she has all day. 

Though he's facing straight ahead, Pepper can see Tony looking at her out of the corner of his eye and she wonders at the blank expression on his face until she realizes that he's taking his cues from her. All day, since the rooftop – the first one, she realizes with sudden clarity, the one at the Disney Concert Hall – Tony has been following her lead on where the wall between them stands. Not just today, or since he kissed her, but for years.

There has always been a wall that has kept them firmly in their respective roles of boss and employee. Over the years, the wall has changed shape, height, and scope, but it's remained firmly in place. 

He pushes and scales and generally makes a nuisance of himself in a lot of respects, but for the final decision to keep the wall firmly in place or start taking some bricks out he defers to her. 

She's never been one for huge public displays, which is ironic when she considers that her former employer and current – Pepper can't come up with what word to use for what exactly Tony is to her now – has one of the largest public profiles of any human being on the planet. And she knows that if she lets him Tony will go to extravagant lengths for her, but that's not what she wants. 

There's no way to keep their relationship theirs, but she wants to try to minimize their exposure.

That said, here, in Venice, on a private boat heading to a fairly exclusive hotel, she lets herself indulge, she lets herself touch and be touched in return.

With infinite care, she slides her right hand from where it rests on her lap and lets it settle midway up Tony's thigh. Under her fingers, she feels the jump and tensing of his muscles; on her leg, his own hand slips and then lies still. Moving her leg ever so slightly, she twists her hip so that Tony has better access to her inner thigh. A shudder runs through him and he turns slightly so that he can look her in the eye.

Meeting his gaze, Pepper slowly starts petting his leg, never going too high up, but still skirting the edge of what she considers an acceptable public display in a speeding boat, crossing the canals of Venice. 

Never one to stay frozen for long, Tony starts to slide his own hand at a snail's pace up her thigh. His fingers are slightly calloused despite weekly manicures and though she doesn't think she'll ever tell him, the contrast of her smooth skin and his slightly rougher flesh has licks of desire curling in her belly. 

Though Bettina is an expert driver, there's nothing to be done when another boat crosses in front of them creating a wake. Tony uses the swaying motion to his advantage, and his hand slides under her skirt and passes the point of what Pepper is normally comfortable with in public, yet she doesn't stop him.

The desire that's been building between them all day, fuck, for the last couple of weeks, years really if she wants to be honest with herself, is going to consume her any—

Pepper's thoughts of the past, of the future, of anything even resembling coherence cut off when his thumb brushes over the front of her panties and she has to stifle a moan. Despite the pleasure, she jerks slightly and tenses up. 

Instantly, Tony backs off a bit, his hand settling slightly lower on her thigh. It's only then that Pepper realizes that her own hand has drifted up well past where she intended it to be and that Tony is all but vibrating with suppressed desire. She can see his dick straining against the material of his jeans and a devil inside her urges her to stroke him just as fleetingly as he did her. 

Tony turns his head until his lips are brushing her ear.

“I want you,” he all but growls, “but then, you already knew that.” His finger draws patterns with no discernible meaning on her inner thighslowly driving her insane. “And, you want me.” He nips the soft part of her earlobe, worrying it with his tongue. “And, when we get back to the hotel, I'm going to take you up to your room and unless you tell me otherwise, I'm planning on making sure that by the time either of us coherent again several years' worth of celibacy has been obliterated.” His fingers cup her knee as the prickly bristle of his beard tickles her neck; the fingers of his left arm drape around her flirting with the side of her breast. “I'm going to bury my head between your legs until you can't even form words, then not let you come until you're screaming my name.”

Every word is another hot puff on air on her skin, another burst of desire in her stomach, a rhythmic tensing of the muscles between her legs.

Simultaneously, Pepper wants to melt into him and take down some of his arrogance. The hotel is getting close, so she'll have to be fast.

“When we get back to my room,” she tells him, voice low and husky, “You're going to be the one on the verge of sanity while I slowly and oh so thoroughly lick your dick from root to tip while my hand cups your balls, learning what it is exactly that makes you come so hard you see stars.”

Tony's breath hitches and he shudders as he comprehends her words; his fingers dig into the soft part of her thigh deep enough for her to be sure that there'll be some bruises. 

“You sure about that?” Tony asks hoarsely, his fingers swirling back up under her skirt. Before she can protest that it's too high, his other hand moves swiftly and his knuckles strum over her taut nipple. Pepper's hips jerk as her body betrays just how much power he holds over her.

“I'm sure,” she manages to get out over the pure lust coiling her whole body so tight she might just explode, “that when you're inside me, I'll be moving so slowly, so purposefully while all you want is to feel hard and tight and fast. We both know who has better impulse control.”

“You might be surprised what I can control when properly motivated.”

As subtly as she can, Pepper raises her hand to her mouth and making sure she has Tony's full attention – though from the way he's sitting beside her, ridged and focused solely on her, Pepper isn't sure what else he could be looking at – she licks her index finger from palm to tip before slowly sucking it into her mouth.

“Holy fuck,” Tony growls out. “You win. I blink.” His breathing is unsteady, but then again, so is hers and Pepper knows that she's never been this desperate to have someone, to have a man, in her, around her, filling her, tasting him, as she is right now.

“I—”

“No more words. I beg of you,” Tony says, a slightly self-mocking smile on his lips. “It's been a while and I think if you say another word that I won't be able to get out of the boat without embarrassing myself.”

Not saying a word, Pepper looks pointedly at his crotch where the prominent ridge of his erection can plainly be seen.

“What, it's not like no one has seen me with a hard-on before?”

Pepper starts slightly at that, and this time not in lust.

“Fuck, wrong thing to say.” Tony combs his right hand through his hair, then settles it back on her leg. This time on top of her skirt. “I mean that it's been a while, a really fucking incredibly long while, for me and I'm about two words and half a look away from embarrassing myself in public in a completely new way.”

Though she's still a bit unsettled at his alluding to past misdeeds that she's had to clean up or ignore, Pepper lets edgy desire overrun the less than pleasurable past until those feelings are naught but a hazy memory.

The past is the past and there is nothing either of them could or would do to change it; it is what made them; their bond was forged in the worst and best of times and is the stronger for it.

Turning, Pepper captures his mouth with hers and gives him a long, languid kiss, letting her tongue thoroughly explore his mouth until they are pulling up to the dock next to the hotel.

“Thank you,” Tony murmurs, puffs of air washing over her lips as he speaks.

Once they're tied up, Tony stands as if spring-loaded and it's all Pepper can do to stop herself from laughing. Not that she isn't just as desperate to get off, ah, leave, the boat, to be alone with him, but she's always been much better at presenting a serene face to the world.

Offering her his hand to help her off the boat, Tony's expression vacillates somewhere between chagrined and lustful.

“Don't think I don't know what you're thinking, Miss Potts,” he says, in a voice that mixes with the lapping of water against the hull of the boat. 

“And what is that, Mr. Stark?” Pepper steps nimbly from the boat and nods a greeting to Roberto.

“That if it were possible without anyone seeing us back there, you'd have swung your leg over my lap and would have me buried so deeply inside you right now that nothing else in the world would matter.”

Heat flushes her cheeks and her step hitches mid-stride, but she valiantly battles and wins to keep her calm public persona in place. 

Tony leers at her, an arrogant pride curving his lips and a wicked light dancing in his eyes. Keeping her expression calm, Pepper moves subtly into his personal space until their arms brush from shoulder to where their hands are interlaced.

With the freedom of not working for him any more, Pepper is more than happy to let go of the leash she's kept her outloud voice on for years.

“You're right,” she says softly enough for only him to hear. “I want you in me. I'm so wet that you'd just slide in with barely any effort. I can imagine you filling me, your hands on my breasts, my tongue in your mouth.” While she speaks, Pepper takes note of Tony's reaction, mainly the dumbfounded look on his face and the way he nearly lands on his ass when he trips over his feet. 

The elevator door opens as soon as they get to it, thanks to an attentive hotel employee; they are alone in the car and Pepper turns to face Tony, her arms looping around his neck, her hips cradling his. The ridge of his erection presses firmly into her and Pepper undulates her hips. 

A low moan puffs out from Tony, his hands going to her hips, grasping though whether it's to still her motions or encourage her, Pepper doesn't know. They are on eye level – something which makes her inordinately happy as it means they meet up in all other vital ways too – and Pepper can see now that his pupils are dilated nearly to the point that his dark eyes appear to be black.

She wants him more than she's ever wanted another man, craves him as much as her next gasping breath or thump of her heart. There was a time when she couldn't conceive of wanting him – or anyone – like this, but now that she does, Pepper is grateful to have the experience. 

Keeping her eyes locked on his until she's too close to focus, Pepper slowly leans in to kiss him long and deep and rough. He still faintly tastes of the bitter spritzes they drank earlier, of their other shared memories of a long day, of dreams of a longer night to come.

Her hips roll against him and Tony tears his mouth from hers, body tense, hand kneading her ass in an unconscious expression of basic want warring with higher intellect.

“If you don't stop, we're going to get thrown out of this place for lewd and indecent behavior.” He nips her bottom lip and soothes the hurt with a nimble sweep of his tongue.

“No one would ever believe it was my fault,” Pepper says saucily, running her right hand down his muscular side to tuck into the back left pocket of his soft jeans. “You're the one with the reputation. I'm the one who cleans up afterward. I could go down on you right here and no one would ever believe it was me.”

Once again, his fingers bite into her, but Pepper doesn't mind at all. In fact, she loves that she can get him so worked up. The feel of him gripping her tightly and awkwardly when his hands are usually so precise and dexterous thrills her reassures her, in a purely physical way that he's just as near the edge as she is.

“They would if you were screaming my name,” Tony grits out as he lowers his head to nibble where her pulse throbs in her throat. Liquid desire races through her veins and Pepper wonders if there's something wrong with the elevator because they should have reached their floor by now. 

As if sensing her thoughts, a subtle chime sounds and the car doors open. Drawing reluctantly away from him, Pepper turns to exit the elevator, but keeps her hand firmly tucked in his back pocket. Moving with her, Tony wraps his arm low on her waist until he can slide his fingers under the hem of her shirt. Warm, rough skin caresses the curve of her hip, toying with the top lace band of her underwear. 

Pepper's blood rushes through her veins, flooding her system with endorphins laced with needy lust. It feels as if it's been forever since anyone has touched her like this. 

No, she corrects herself; no one has ever touched her quite like this. 

Abruptly, Tony stops and pulls her to him, his body vibrating with want as his mouth plunders hers. For a man with legendary experience, his kiss is far from practiced. Tangling her fingers through his hair, Pepper holds him in place and meets him touch for touch, nip for nip, taste for taste. 

When he backs her against the wall, she uses the sturdy surface to brace herself as she wraps her left leg around him, pulling him as close as possible while still clothed. His rock-hard erection lines up perfectly with her parted thighs and they both moan at the contact. 

“Now!” Tony growls. “Right. Fucking. Now.”

His right hand hitches her left leg higher on his hips and opens her wider as he rocks forcefully against her. 

“Room,” Pepper pants. “Right.” She bites his lower lip none too gently. “There.” The bite turns into a moan as the tips of his fingers stroke along her slit from underneath. 

“Too far,” he mumbles, managing to sneak his finger under the elastic leg band of her underwear. 

Moaning his name, Pepper fights the urge to just let him. To, for once in her life, just be that person out of control, letting pure feelings swamp her and rule her reason. When Tony manages to stroke one finger through her wet, ready slit, she nearly lets a lifetime of control and poise be pushed aside. 

With a lot of reluctance, and not a little loss of coordination, Pepper drops her leg. It's a bit of a match of wills as Tony's hand slithers out of her to grip her thigh and lock her leg in place. Their eyes meet, clash, hold in a fiery battle of desire versus propriety, but in the end Tony lets her leg slide down the outside of his own until her foot is once again planted on the floor. 

On legs made unsteady with driving want, Pepper turns and makes her way to the door that leads to her suite. Right behind her, barely leaving a breath of space, Tony follows, his hands resting on her hips, his lips leaving a trail of hot kisses on the hyper-sensitive skin of her neck and under her right ear.

Frantically, Pepper searches her purse for her key – there isn't much in it; how the hell can in be this hard to find a fucking old-fashioned wrought iron key? Never one to heed social mores – or public decency laws – Tony's clever fingers start to inch her skirt up, as he continues to nibble on her ear.

“I'm beginning to think that you might not be as opposed as you claim to me taking you right here, right now,” Tony says, his tone dark and hot and filled with more pure sexual want than Pepper has ever heard. 

Crowding her, Tony rocks his hips against her until the firm ridge of his erection presses hard into her ass. Unable to stop herself, Pepper closes her eyes and leans against his chest, her head dropping back to rest on his shoulder. Taking her actions as an invitation, Tony abandons all pretense of subtlety; his right hand comes up to cup her breast, while his left slips under her rucked up skirt and palms her sex. Her underwear are damp – have been for a while – and she wonders what exactly the etiquette would be if they get caught, his hand on her, in her, his fingers slick with her arousal, her underwear obviously damp.

Though maybe no one would notice the state of her underwear with everything else on display. 

Then the clever fingers of his right hand are rubbing her nipple through layers of fabric as he unerringly finds her clit. Her back arches away from him, to him; she is surrounded byhim, his hands playing over her most sensitive areas, his front pressed firmly against her back from shoulders to thighs, his breath coming in hot, heavy pants over her neck and ear. 

He sets up a fast, unrelenting rhythm that has her hips meeting his movements without any conscious effort on her part. The way he touches her – thoroughly, possessively, reverently – overwhelms her and there are too many feelings, too many sensations to make sense of anything but the feel of him, of what he's doing to her.

The metal of the key bites into her right hand as her hands fist in a futile effort to regain some semblance of control. However, there is no control, none for her at any rate; Tony seems to have both lost it and gained some measure as he strokes her relentlessly towards orgasm right here in the hallway of an exclusive Venetian hotel. 

“Tony,” she gasps out his name, a plea, a command, though whether it's for him to continue or stop, she doesn't know. Eyes gone blurry with passion and need, Pepper manages to insert the key into the hole – and why does that suddenly sound, feel, so dirty – but can't quite get the dexterity to turn it.

“In, now,” Tony rumbles behind her, his hand leaving her breast and turning the key in the lock.

The door opens and they tumble into the room, limbs tangled, hands grasping. The brief loss of contact between his fingers and her body is enough for her to muster command over her limbs. She turns in his arms, her mouth going hungrily to his as her hands find the front of his jeans and cup him through the soft material. 

Tony freezes and moans, his hips jerking at her touch; his hands, which are once again on her ass, grip her tightly. 

“Holy shit! Fuck, Pepper,” Tony bites out. “Need you.” His lips cover hers in a searing kiss. “Now.” 

Taking him at his word, Pepper spins him and pushes him backward several steps until his legs collide with the back of a lovely eighteenth-century couch covered in Rubelli fabric. He tumbles down onto it, pulling her with him so that she is awkwardly sprawled over his lap. In the back of her mind she vaguely hopes they don't ruin the couch, but at this point, it could collapse beneath them and she knows neither of them would care.

In jerky movements, hindered by his hands frantically tugging off her shirt and hers stripping him of his, Pepper manages to end up straddling him. The heat and hardness of his erection are muted between the satin of her underwear and the cotton of his jeans, but she can still feel his shape, still craves him, still needs him with a desperation she didn't know existed. 

The prickle of his goatee on the swell of her left breast sends shivers racing down her spine and raises goosebumps on any exposed flesh. Seconds later, his lips are on her, following the line of her bra's fabric down to the center of her chest. 

Too impatient to try for more, Tony just pushes the lacy demi-cups down until her breasts are freed. He lifts the left one up slightly, caught above the now-empty cup. Like a homing missile, his mouth goes right to her nipple and sucks the hard bud into his mouth. Teeth and tongue and lips play havoc with her senses and her hands contracts uselessly on the flat planes of his stomach as hard bolts of desire race through her. 

With fingers gone clumsy with need, Pepper struggles with the opening of Tony's jeans, until finally, finally, she manages to get the button undone. On a whimper that mixes triumph with want, she snakes her hand inside both jeans and boxers and wraps her fingers around his rock-hard dick. 

Tony abandons her breast with a shuddering moan and shoves his clothing down just far enough so that his erection springs free. It shouldn't be true that his body holds any surprises for her – she's seen him without clothing often enough over the years, even seen him aroused a time or two – but she is somehow momentarily shocked. That she is here, in this surreally beautiful settling with Saint Mark's Square framed like some Renaissance painting through the floor to ceiling windows behind Tony's head, straddling him, her breasts spilling over her bra, his dick hard and jutting up for her, is odd and wonderful and fascinating.

And then the thought is gone as Tony fumbles aside her underwear and without any preamble sinks two fingers into her in one quick, sure thrust. 

“Tony,” Pepper cries. She meant it to be more of a chiding rebuke than the needy plea it so obviously is. She's wet and ready and wants more than her next breath to sink down onto him. To have his hard, hot dick inside her, to know that he wants her as much as she does him, to feel surrounded by him and be the one engulfing him. 

Though it's rare that he follows her schedule, for once Tony is right on time and wraps his hands around her hips, lifting, angling, steadying, as she grips his dick and guides him into her waiting heat. 

She wants to slam down, to rock onto him, to feel nothing but that initial shock of pleasure mixed with pain of that first thrusting invasion. But he doesn't let her. Tony's hands grip her hips tightly and he doesn't let her move until her eyes rise from where they are barely joined – just the head of his dick taunting her opening – to meet his. 

Their eyes hold for one, two, three heartbeats; then he's pulling her down onto him and she was so right, yet so wrong in what she thought this would feel like. There's so much more: more sensation, more pleasure, more tightness, and an all-consuming rightness. After the flooding memories of years of longing, there is nothing but him: his heat, his hard length filling her, his hands digging into her hips, his mouth taking hers in a desperate kiss of want and teeth and need. 

Then she's moving, faster and harder than she would ever have imagined wanting to, needing to. The drive to have him in her is deep and desperate. There is no time, no yesterdays, no tomorrows, no ten minutes from now; only now, only them, only the taste and feel of him, only the mad signals her body is sending her overwhelmed brain. 

Her right hand wraps around his neck, nails digging in to hold herself in place as his body is starting to become slick with sweat. The material of her bra restricts her breasts somewhat – and cuts in on the soft underside – and all she wants is to feel them plastered against his chest, to have as much of her skin touching his as possible. 

Maybe it's the same for him, or maybe he just wants to drive her beyond the point of sanity, but Tony tugs at her arms until he manages to free her from the restrictive garment. Breasts bare, his hands go to them, cupping her, his thumbs rubbing roughly over her nipples. Her hips jerk, slamming him more deeply into her, and his name is a slurred cry from her lips. 

She's right on the knife's edge of release, but wants to hold on as long as possible, wants to let this first time, this amazing, wild, inelegant mating of need and want and lust, last forever. Never before has she been this uninhibited, this filled with hot want. 

“So close,” Tony growls, burying his head in the crook of her neck, his words coming in gasping breaths. As if that's what her body was waiting for. Pepper's back arches as pleasure surges inside her. That or the fact he managed to insinuate his right hand between their bodies and his thumb now rests on her clit, timing his strokes with those of his dick bottoming out inside her body. 

“More,” she manages to get out, still wanting, needing this connection to last past this moment, past forever. 

He pulls back, looks at her, wild and desperate and full of a madness that she knows is echoed inside her. 

“Now,” he counters, half begging, half ordering and it is now as he thrusts up to meet her and circles her clit, her breasts dragging over his chest, the odd uniformity of the arc reactor sliding over the inside swell of both breasts. 

Her back bowing, muscles quivering, eyes filled with his face and the classic Venetian landscape, Pepper barely manages to stay upright as her orgasm slams into her in wave after wave of pleasure. Dimly, she hears Tony call her name as he arches and thrusts spasmodically into her, his finger pressing into her clit bordering on the point of pain, and even that is somehow fantastic.

Spent, she collapses onto him, body slick with sweat, quivers of aftershocks racing along her skin, causing both of them to moan weakly when she contracts around his dick still nestled and mostly hard inside her. 

His arms circle her, cradling her body to his chest. Lazy hands stroke up and down her back, fingers playing over the bumps of her spine, the curve of her ribs, the swell of her ass.

“So,” Tony says, after an infinite amount of time. “Not sure about that. We're going to need to try again to be able to form an opinion.”

“Right now?” Pepper asks, drawing back to give him a coolly assessing look though she thinks that the effect is somehow not what she wants when he just grins mechanically at her. 

“Maybe not right now.” His hands cup her ass, then roam up her back and tangle in her hair. “But pretty soon.” He leans in and kisses her softly, tenderly, a slow exploration that, while filled with banked fire, is just a kiss to connect, not leading to more. “I don't think I'm ever going to get the taste of you out of my mouth.” 

Drawing back she give him a wicked smile. “And you haven't even tasted all of me yet.”

It's funny, the looks of puzzlement, the shock, then finally awe that chase over his face. He's not used to her being the one to say such things and Pepper can't wait to shock him with some of her more lurid thoughts. 

Shocking Tony Stark. The mind boggles and she laughs with the pure joy of the whole situation. 

“That was amazing,” Tony says, smiling, looking slightly bewildered but happy.

Cupping his face, she leans in and kisses him quickly her lips curving up with her smile.

“So, what have you planned for tonight?” Pepper asks archly, even as she slides off his lap. As much as she would love to stay right where she is, the practicality of her aching thigh muscles mean she has to move, to stretch, but she misses the feel of him inside her, under her more, frankly, than she's comfortable with. 

Deciding that trying to right her clothes is more trouble than it's worth, she shimmies her hips and lets her skirt and underwear drop to the floor in a tangled mess. 

When Tony doesn't answer, she looks over to find him staring at her in rapt fascination.

“Tony?” she queries, wondering at his stunned focus on her. 

“Fuck, you're hot,” he tells her, eyes running over her body, never once really coming to rest on any one place. “So ridiculously gorgeous.” He grins up at her. “You should always be naked.”

“Well, apart from how cold I'd be, I don't think the board of directors would approve of me showing up to meetings without clothes on.”

Tony's face clouds over and he stands next to her, wrapping her up in his arms. 

“No one else sees,” he bites out, taking her mouth in a possessive kiss. 

“Same goes,” she tells him when they break apart. He nods his head, looking at her with a mix of insecurity and brash male pride. She knows that he doesn't do relationships, that this is new to him, but she thinks she's going to be the one setting the boundaries and not in how fast they move, but in how much he wants to come into her life, to take it over, to fill up all the places he thinks he should be. 

“Want to take a shower?” he asks, and she knows he's leering even though she's not looking at him.

“You just want to see me naked and wet,” Pepper tells him, nipping his shoulder. 

“I want to feel you wet,” Tony growls back, his hand going to cup her pussy. She's sticky, and a little sore, but pleasure suffuses her and she arches into his touch. 

Pulling from him, she gives him an inviting smile and walks down the hall which leads to the spacious pink marble bathroom. She has a fleeting thought about her bags containing her shoes that they'd abandoned on the boat, but she has little doubt that either Bettina or Roberto has collected them and put them somewhere safe. All it will take to retrieve them is a call from either her or Tony to get them.

# # #

Soft morning light fills the room, bathing them in golden warmth. Tony stretches and feels twinges in muscles and areas of skin that haven't been sore in a while. At least , he's not been this sore due to so much non-Iron Man physical activity. 

The day has barely started and he lets his thoughts drift around memories of last night, of figuring out shifting and fitting lives together, of how she felt draped over him, skin to skin, barely moving, all languid want and slick with desire. 

How, in this quiet moment, all he wants to do is hold her close and just absorb this first morning together, the novelty of waking up with Pepper in his arms. 

As impossible as it seems, she's finally here with him and there's no going back, no denying it; nothing but her with him feels like it truly matters anymore. It's been years since he's wanted anyone but her and the reality far surpasses his fairly inventive imagination. Tony wants her in a way he can barely comprehend. he's pretty good at fitting things together, at making random parts work into something amazing, but he's not sure exactly how to get their parts to fit together.

A grin turns his lips up; correction, he's pretty fucking amazing at getting their parts to fit together; it's their lives – both so complicated and filled with jagged edges and overlapping pieces – that he's not exactly sure how to make work. But he will, they will; he's great at the big picture and putting things together, and she's fantastic at the smoothing of his rough edges and the practical application of his more grandiose ideas. 

He can't truly get his brain to wrap around the idea that she's finally here, finally in his bed, with him. It wasn't a drunken stumble – as he'd often wondered about in the pre-Afghanistan days – and it wasn't a life or death reaction – which he'd worried over a bit since the kiss on the rooftop – and it wasn't in anger – though now that they've crossed that line, he is sure they are going to have some truly spectacular angry sex in the future, as there's no way he won't still be pissing her off on a regular basis – which would have been hot, but he ultimately fears would have led to her leaving him.

The kernel of terror that lodged somewhere right behind the arc reactor – that she would leave if he stepped too far out of line – was what had held him back for so long. Oh, he'd poked and prodded, tested and teased to see if she was at all receptive to his advances, but always drew back before crossing the line.

Curling his arm up under his head, he studies her sleeping face; in the warm morning light, with her makeup long gone, he takes time to map her freckles, to mentally run his fingers over her features, to pause at her slightly swollen lips, the red his goatee left on her throat, the small mark his teeth left on the curve of her shoulder. 

He's never really done this before, never really taken the time to study, to learn the face of his partner while she sleeps. There were some relationships in college, but he's forced to admit those were based on sex, mutual use – bodies, good times, and image – and very little knowledge beyond the surface. 

There was that one—

Tony cuts his mind away; Pepper would never, ever betray him that way and he won't even link her in his thoughts to that traitorous bitch. 

Mentally shoving away anything but thoughts of Pepper, Tony shifts, props himself back up so that he can just gaze at her. He feels like some sort of love-sick moron, just looking at her while she sleeps, and wonders if she'll find it creepy or sweet; sometimes it's hard for him to figure out which side of the line his behavior falls on. 

He's never been in this situation where his feelings are so engaged, so raw, at times overwhelming, and he wonders what exactly he's supposed to do with all of the conflicting emotions racing through him.

Last night, after the shower and more fantastic sex, dinner in her room, and yet more mind-blowing sex, he'd settled down to sleep with her in his arms and found himself wide awake and terrified of all that could go wrong. His mind raced with all the ways he could hurt her, that she could hurt him, and never mind any of the dozens and dozens of outside influences that could tear them apart. 

The need to touch her surges through him and before he realizes it, his hand has reached out and is stroking through the silky tangle of her hair. In the morning light, it seems more red, more alive, more like fire than the sleek, strands of everyday life, usually perfectly in place. 

She is all he wants, all he's wanted for a long time now, despite his attraction to Natalie; she was hot, he was dying, and Pepper seemed more out of reach than ever before. Pepper sighs as she shifts in her sleep, then settles down again having never really moved, and Tony is torn between the desire to have her open her gorgeous blue eyes and see how she reacts to finding him with her – with a smile and welcoming kiss, he hopes – to remembering what they did last night – three times – and wanting to take this time wrapped in the calm golden light of early morning and just be with her.

While he might not be sure of all the logistics, Tony knows that Pepper is it for him. There's a certainty within him that he'll never get over losing her, he'll never be okay without her with him, by his side, that there will be no second chances at this kind of life. Not for him. He might have had more than his fair share of women – who is he kidding, he's had more than ten times a guy's normal fair share – but he knows he's good looking, great in bed, and has a mystique about him that's like catnip to a certain type of woman. Tony knows what it's like to have great sex, lots and lots and lots of great sex, and whatever he and Pepper were doing last night – which was fucking fantastic, like off the charts hot, and the second time was a long and slow-burning build that nearly had him passing out when he came – was not just sex.

Stroking his hand over the bare curve of her pale shoulder, Tony pulls the sheet down a bit, exposing her breast. There's evidence of how easily she's marked when he's not exactly gentle with her and he lets masculine pride assuage the stark reality that he's managed to hurt her even if it is just from beard burn and love bites. 

Even in sleep, her body seems to know he's there as under his watchful gaze, her nipple puckers and she shifts closer to him. He wants her more than he's ever wanted anything else and wonders if this is what it feels like to be in love, to want some else's happiness, health, safety more than his own. 

When he drags his eyes back up her throat, cheek, and to her eyes, he finds Pepper awake, watching him in that quiet, thoughtful way of hers and he wonders what his unguarded expressions have revealed to her. 

She doesn't grin at him, but neither does she pull away as if shocked to find him beside her in bed. Instead, she lifts her hand, running it up the bridge of his nose, tracing the arch of his eyebrows, then dropping down to cup his cheek. Steadying him with her hand, she leans in and kisses him a long and languid good morning that settles him more than any words could ever have done. 

The kiss ends naturally and they just lie there, as the light gets brighter, solemnly studying each other, fingers gently caressing features, sifting through tangled hair. 

Between them the air is a live thing, humming with its own energy, filled with things that need to be said, of feelings yet to be put into words, the enormity of how their relationship has shifted. And still, all he really wants to do is pull her to him and bury his cock in her slick, welcoming heat, and forget that there was ever a time he wasn't with her.

Sighing in disgust with himself, Tony leans in and returns her earlier kiss, tasting her again, slowly, deeply; enjoying the way her body slides against his in the quiet morning.

He lets his fingers tangle in her hair, stroking the soft strands, testing their length, their softness. When she all but purrs, Tony makes a mental note that playing with Pepper's hair is going on a list of things to do every day.

Her own hand is far from idle drifting down from his face to splay over his chest. She outlines the contours of his pecs, the wave of his clavicle, the ring of his arc reactor. The skin under her fingers tingles and feels as if all the nerve endings are coming to attention just for her and they aren't the only thing. 

Sliding his hand from her hair, he follows the curve of her shoulder, the slope of her breast, and cups the weight of her in his palm. Her nipple is hard, yet so soft, and he dips his head to take it into his mouth. She sighs softly, not a word, barely a sound, but he hears the pleasure in it, the want, the need.

Letting his hand dip lower, he takes in the hill of her ribs, the valley of her waist, the jut of her hip. He's making a map with his hands to match the one he's plotted countless times in his mind. He wants to be able to know her topography better than he knows any other, to know how she moves beneath his touch, what makes her arch in pleasure, cry out in ecstasy, lose all sense of anything but him.

While he's retracing his steps, her hands slowly slide down, mimicking his tracks on his own body; When he sucks in a breath as she swirls her fingers around his navel, letting her nipple slip free from his mouth, she smiles knowingly at him and repeats the action a second and third time with the same results.

Quivering with want, but wanting to make sure she's there with him, he circles her left thigh until he can tug her leg over his. This position has her open to him and he trails up the pale inner slope of her thigh, his fingers teasing a gentle graze of a touch over the downy soft curls of her sex, before coming higher, higher, until his hand is once more just under her breast. 

It's a tough choice whether to go up or down – both offer such promise – but her hand is once again circling his bellybutton and desire goes from a soft hum to a forceful cry. 

Reaching for the sheet, he tosses it aside so that they are both bare to mid-knee. In the golden light he wants everything to be soft and slow, but feels the need to be in her biting at his control. Still, he takes his time to make sure that she's ready for him. One finger slides in and this time the sound she makes is closer to a moan than a sigh. 

When he adds a second finger, she arches to him, her hand going to his hip: to hold on, to pull him closer, to connect with him in yet another way. His fingers are steeped in her heat, engulfed by her quivering inner muscles, and he knows, knows deep in his gut, that he never wants to be with anyone else ever again. 

It should be a thought that horrifies him, but instead it just makes him want to bury his cock in her and make sure she knows just how much he wants her, how much she's part of him.

Shifting his body so that they are nearly touching from chest to thigh, he cants his hips, lets her take his cock in hand and line it up with her opening. Their eyes meet, lock, hold; a million vows are exchanged, promises of fidelity, of futures, of loving without a word being spoken.

In a slow, steady motion they come together until he doesn't think he's ever been this deeply inside another human being. 

“I love you,” he tells her. It just slips out and he can't believe he's said the words, but they're so right, so perfect for this moment of golden light and glowing Pepper and a life he didn't know he wanted, but now would do anything to keep. 

The smile she gives him lights up her whole face and brightens the dark places inside of him that will never fully go away. She is radiant and his. Just as he is hers.

She cups his cheek and gives him the most amazingly gentle kiss, before pulling back to search his face. Whatever she sees there must be what she is looking for because she nods once.

“Good,” she says softly, “because I love you, too.”

It's a shock to hear it, even though he more or less suspected as much. It's a shock to hear those words from anyone who actually knows him, because he thinks the last person who said they loved him – and meant it, knew him good and bad, not just the facade he shows the world – was his mother. 

Unable to stop himself, he wraps his arms around her and clutches her to his chest. He's sure that there's a more manly response to this situation, but he's helpless to act any other way.

All too soon, the demands of his body start to take over and his hips move ever so slightly back and forth. She's so warm, so tight, so fucking wet and all for him, this wonderful, fucking amazing woman. 

They move together now, bodies sliding, breath panting, fingers grasping. He hooks his hand around her thigh, hefting it higher on his body so that he can thrust more deeply into her. The angle must be doing something right for her, because Pepper cries out softly and her muscles tighten even as her hips jerk away and then back towards him. 

His hand splays on her ass, pulling her to him in counterpoint to his thrusts, anchoring her in place as their movements lose finesse and raging need takes over their finer motor skills. Her hand slips between them and he watches through a haze of lust as she circles her clit. The way her muscles clutch around him means she's getting close. He hopes to hell she is and that's not just his mind playing tricks to let his body take over, because holy fuck he needs to come before he combusts. 

His hand slips on her ass now slick with sweat, and she skitters away from him momentarily. Both clutch the other – his hand going to her thigh, her leg hooking more securely around his hip while her nails dig into his right bicep– in jerky, desperate moves to make sure they're not parted again. 

When Pepper's breath starts to come in hitching gasps, Tony thanks whatever gods may or may not exist and tries his best to match his thrusts to hers. He tears his eyes away from where her hand is toying with her clit – though he still knows when she hits just the right spot from the low moans and the shuddering way she grips his cock and brings him that much closer to the brink – and focuses as best he can on her face. 

Color rides high on her cheeks, making the normally pale skin seem to be flushed with sunburn. Her blue eyes, usually so calm and direct have lost focus and are glazed with lust. Her mouth is parted, lips still swollen from his kiss, air passing in gasps. 

He leans in and takes her mouth; the kiss is anything but smooth, but he has to taste her in this the last moment he knows any sort of sanity. 

Then she's arching her back, tearing her mouth from his on a long, silent moan. Her hips bump his, her hand caught between them locked in place as her inner muscles clamp spasmodically around his cock. And then there's nothing but the immense waves upon wave of pleasure that crash over him, burying him in nothing but the smell, feel, and sight that is Pepper as seen through his own orgasm. 

He can't stop the way his hips slam into her, nor the way his hands grip her thigh, holding her in place as he empties himself into her. Even after his body has nothing else to give, his hips still jerk erratically, prolonging his pleasure until Tony thinks it just might kill him. 

But what a fucking way to go. Literally. 

With spots dancing behind his eyes and his breaths coming in labored gasps, Tony lays his sweaty forehead to rest against hers. He has no words profound enough for what they've just shared, doesn't think any exist. 

If he had more than just the basic neurons firing, he might try to invent some, but as it is, he thinks just concentrating on getting his rasping breath under control is the better choice. Her hand is lax on his upper arm, thumb gently stroking back and forth; apart from her slowing breathing, and the occasional aftershock of rippling muscles, she is perfectly still next to him.

There's no way he could, but Tony wishes that he had the coordination to bring her closer yet, to have her under him or over him, surrounding him in the most basic of ways. While they are on even ground – well, technically, even mattress – Tony yearns for more contact between them. Stripped of everything, of the usual armor they typically wear throughout the course of the day, he wants to just be with her. To just lie there and breathe her in, to relax and exist.

And, wow, now he might be becoming some sort of sap who does nothing but watch Oprah and LifeTime.

Through the course of the night Tony found that touching her as much as possible after a mind-blowing orgasm grounds him in a fundamental way where in contrast it only arouses him before his climax.

Gently, Pepper's hand drifts up until she reaches his head, and she starts to lazily tunnel her fingers through his hair. The movements are hypnotic and lull him into a near-trance-like state where nothing really exists but her, him, and this surreal feeling between falling and safety.

“I meant it,” he says into the warm silence between them. He hopes she knows what he's talking about, because even just alluding to it is harder than he wants to admit.

“I know,” she answers, her words more a puff of air than sound.

Because it's Pepper and she's known him for years, understands how he is, how he thinks, she knows that he sucks at using words to define how he feels to those most important to him. A sigh of what he can only describe as contentment escapes from deep within his chest.

Tilting his head, Tony kisses her tenderly, for once not wanting to arouse, to titillate, but only to reaffirm what he can still barely express with words. 

“I love you,” he tells her, lips barely parted from the kiss so that each sound forms a soft caress, finally feeling secure enough in what is between them to state his feelings without any dressing up.

“I love you, too,” she says, returning both his words and his caress. 

They lie there, content, barely moving, as the sun finishes rising and a new day starts.


End file.
